That Cold Christmas ©
by Shadafakup
Summary: •Slash• A few words, and Draco is gone, away on 'official business' leaving Harry all alone to spend Christmas day. As the loneliness and denial sets in, will Draco break his word & return to pull Harry out of his misery? •DH•
1. Wishing once upon a shooting star

**That Cold Christmas**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Christmas, Draco or Harry.  
**Warning**: If _slash_ and _angst_ is not your cup of tea, _leave_.

This is my X'mas present to all Draco/Harry fans, especially those who are spending X'mas alone this year.

Enjoy.

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I slowly place my tea on the table, refusing to look up. The little control I have over my emotions is already threatening to break lose. "You are going away tonight?" I finally managed to incredulously choke out.

In the silence that follows, I can almost hear him nod – it is that palpable.

Willing myself to swallow down this piece of information, I voice a question that sounds more like a statement. "So you won't be here for Christmas?"

I guess the pleading tone in my voice reaches Draco's ears because he starts to say something. Ungraciously I cut him off with a jerk of my hand. If this tense banter goes on between us, I will definitely lose my cool, and we just bought a new chandelier - I had no intention of exploding it so soon. I had planned for some time for just the two of us, even convincing Ron and Hermione to have their own little holiday.

_"Mate, are you sure you'll be ok?"_

_I crack a smile at Ron's question. "Of course," I said, "If Voldemort didn't kill me, why would a few weeks of solitude?_

_"Harry—" Hermione starts._

_"I'll be fine, honestly, you needn't worry."_

_Her reply was filled with the usual indigence. "I never said you wouldn't be. I was going to tell you to—"_

_However, I interject again. Lately I've been doing that far too often to be deemed amiable. "I know, I know. Now hurry off and enjoy yourself," I say confidently. Hermione knows about my unconventional relationship with Draco. She has probably figured something was up, or that I wanted to keep the details private. Truth be told, I think Ron has figured there was something going on as well, but there is nothing anyone can do about a redhead in denial. Hermione finally gives in, deciding that perhaps I just wanted some peace and quiet with Draco._

Cheerfully I had waved them off, staring into the empty fireplace until the soot finally settles. And here I was, ironically, going to be left alone.

Surprisingly, he is obediently silent. How very un-Malfoy. But for this once, he had better listen to me. After all, that bastard is leaving me alone for the whole of Christmas, and not to mention Christmas Eve. I mentally wonder when I became this calculative. Call me selfish, but I felt a bitter resentment whenever everyone seem to be able to enjoy Christmas more than I. To _forget_. I close my eyes briefly. With slight dread, I glance up, tearing my face from the tea sitting calmly in my red and green mug I got as a Christmas present from Ginny.

"_Fine_," I say, my voice even flatter than I had intended it to be.

"Harry, please. You have to understand that I need to—"

Again that nasty habit of cutting people off kicks in and I stop his forthcoming speech. "Yes, yes. You need to visit your mother's grave because her death anniversary _happens_ to fall on Christmas. Then, you have to close up some business at work, and then settle some papers regarding certain _Malfoy _matters._ Right_?"

Draco shifts his weight, looking a little uneasy at the way I trivialize his mother's death. She had committed suicide last Christmas, too depressed and almost on the verge of insanity to continue in the meaningless life. Lucius' death had scarred her too deeply for her to recover, and she had basically died in her only son's arms. She had breathed her last in the arms of the only person she had left to remember Lucius by. We all had different ways of coping after the war. Trust Malfoys to be able to influence others even after their deaths.

"Listen to me Harry." Draco pulls up a chair and holds my face in his hands. He is being so patient with me even as I am acting like a five-year-old spoilt brat. Since when had our relationship reversed? here I thought I was picking up the pieces for him. I didn't even realize how much I had changed after the divorce. With my face firmly cupped between his long, slender fingers, I have no choice but to look straight into those slate gray eyes.

"This. Is. Very. Important," He enunciates slowly, as if trying to teach a little child something new. At this instant, it is so applicable that I swear the jerk knows me too well.

Those eyes capture mine and I lose the staring battle, instead preferring to concentrate on other things, like the way his face glows under the kitchen lamp. However, even that proves too much for me as something in the left side of my chest clutches painfully. "This is important, Harry. It's the first year. I cannot do this alone—"

I jump out suddenly. An irrational rage overtakes me and I start yelling unreasonably. "I have no idea what you want from me. You swing around from needing to pushing me away. And for some reason, after all I have done to give us some time for Christmas, you decide you have better things to do!"

At this point, something at the back of my mind tells me that I was really being very, very childish. Still, one is entitled to moods when you saved the world that now wants to move on without you. I press my fingers against my temples. The hurt in Draco's eyes almost makes me relent and ask him to take me along. ALMOST.

In the few seconds that follow, his sharp wit and sarcastic edge seemingly buried, I make up my mind. "_Leave_," I order. "Leave _now_."

Draco gives me a very hesitant glance – another trait that seems to be very unlike a Malfoy. He steps closer as if wanting to say or do something. Something breaks in me as he draws closer. I want so badly to spend this day with him. Then at the last moment, he thinks better of it and moves out of the kitchen, quietly shutting the door behind him. I tug at my hair, wondering why I have become a stranger to myself. Once upon a time I had dreamed of greater things, I had imagined a life that would have been easy to live, once I did what I was told to do.

I got rid of the greatest evil, and yet - there was no peace. Just the London fog settling around me as I wandered discontentedly around the living. I watched as people healed. I let myself get carried along by the false positivity of a community that wanted so badly to forget. I let myself slide into a marriage that nearly killed us both. It was not that Ginny was lacking - she just couldn't understand why I had such difficulty letting go. I just didn't understand how she could move on like the war hadn't matter. Like the war hadn't killed our friends. As if time could heal all wounds.

The first Christmas together was undeniably awful. I got stone-faced at a pub, and missed the whole Weasley affair. She was furious, and I was vindictive. Every part of me felt dead. Our relationship was hinged upon the war, and yet we experienced it so differently that when we were forced into adulthood, I don't think we could understand each other. I filed for divorce. A nasty thing in the wizarding world, where ties were deemed important and I dropped off the face of the news. I took long walks in cemeteries, listening to the silence only the dead afforded. The wind whistled through the creaking branches, and dulled me till I could feel no more. I walked along the ancient stone paths in Edinburgh till my toes curled in protest, and the sky opened volley after volley of rain upon me. And I felt nothing.

Until Draco came along.

There is a crack, and I know he has already apparated off. I had no idea where to find him now, though it was my fault that I had never asked. The same naggy voice in my head tells me that even if I asked, there would not have been a point. Angrily, I tell it to shut up and it does. For a few minutes, I wait, almost thinking that the kitchen door might suddenly burst open and Draco will be there, arms wide open, telling me he is sorry and that he will spend Christmas with me. I had believed he understood that giant emptiness that one feels against the faux joviality. When there is no movement at all, I tip toe to the door and pull it slightly open. The hinges creak as I widen the space.

As the whole of the room floods into my view, the hopeful part of me scans and rescans the room a few times before it is finally convince that there is no one else in the whole house. Then and there, I feel this sudden wave of tiredness as I stumble into the living room. I collapse onto the couch and a certain blankness obscures my visions as I stare into space for many an hour, with one name echoing throughout it all.

_Draco._

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**A/N: **There you have it, the next chapter will be out on Christmas day, so do be patient with me. Please review, I'll take it as a Christmas present from you. You can have a Draco gingerbread cookie. =)

~Shadafakup


	2. Wishing twice upon a shooting star

**That Cold Christmas**

**Dedication**: This chapter is dedicated to all my reviewers, who have bore with me thus far. Thank you _SilentStalker, tamyshka, moon pixie, Kachikara, AznNilli, Sharika, Ami Winner, platy_bear, Redhead Kitty Kat, ~~LIZ~~, Erae, Yuki-chu, Alysia, TheTrueSilver, Dudette, bakachan17, who cares?, SiriusWolf, tati1, NeveragainIswear, guess, deb, Luscious Kinney, Aoiki, Layce74, Coward in the Shadows, The Evil One, kittenkat, ZombieGurl98, YG, MalfoySlave, itdoesnotmatter, Me, Vici0usRebL, Amethystdawn, soundless, silentsoul, Su, Rowan Arkenson, Doneril, Weasley Wonders, fox00, Keitorin, Heh, Ehm..., radarPLO, michelle, X'mas Bunny, Dea Liberty, Lady Phoenix Slytherin, beezy, Elven Warrior1, Amanda, Nyades Road Ghost, vulpixfairy, celine and celine's friend._

The end is all yours. Enjoy.

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The sleeping pills I swallowed after a microwave dinner last night must have worked because the time stated on my bedroom clock says it is past twelve. The packet has said 1-2 tables to be taken at a time but I was never one to follow instructions, especially one that was harmlessly printed on a plain slip of paper. Somehow, the whole night's sleep has not even refreshed me. I wake up groggy and feeling like a screwdriver had been bored into my left temper while I lay in a fitful slumber.

I perch atop the dining table, pondering the next course of action to take. Swirling the warm milk in my cup, I wondered if Draco would ever leave my head this Christmas. Everything I see in my house – his house – our house reminds me distinctly of him. Objects like the laptop, which took the longest time in the world to teach him; the sofa over which we quarreled over which colour to buy.

Everything, simply everything reminds me of him.

I don't understand why I'm feeling so maudlin, aside from the fact that I had a distinct fear he was abandoning me. The moment I get up, my back creaks so loudly that I flop back down on the table. My back is his fault as well. I could not go to sleep in the bed because it smelt so strongly of him. So collecting stuff, pillows and all, I tried so settle for sleeping on the cold marble. Finally I gave up and took those sleeping pills, which were originally bought to block out those nightmares. You can only guess how comfortable sleeping on the kitchen counter was.

Eventually, after much moping around, I make my way up to the third floor and into the bedroom to get changed so that I can get some food for tonight. The voice in my head severely reminds me that I will be spending the night alone so I might as well just buy a few cartons of beer and drink myself silly.

"Shut up."

It occurs to me that I am talking to myself again. That annoying voice actually went away when Draco came along, but it is now returning with a renewed fervor. _I have always taken care of you_, it echoes in my mind. _Draco was just a lie, and you should listen to me._

"Shut the hell up."

_You are insane, talking to yourself. There is nobody around. Except us._

"_Shut _the goddamn hell up. I don't _care _if I am talking to myself because I _am_ like this. And if nobody _wants _to talk to me, what _is_ wrong with talking to myself?"

In the silence that follows, I can hear my own heavy breathing, the result of my outburst. I hate that voice, it always seem so self-righteous. A grip. That was what I needed. I very badly needed to get a hold on myself. _Lithium, _that's it. I stumbled down the stairs for the green and white pills in the cabinet. Even as I swallow them down, I cannot control the emotions rushing through me, a river overflowing its dam.

My hand grabs hold of a chair and I throw it into the living room. I am so angry, and my face is screwed up so tight that pressure behind my eyes is almost unbearable.

"Bastard! You promised. You promised you would never leave me alone."

In the desperation that follows, my legs give way and I sink to the white tilled floor, with my eyes overlooking the fallen chair and into the living room. Everything swims in my head and my visions blurs, from the tears, or from the pounding in my temples, I cannot tell. The clock ticks on, like the beat of my heart, only steadier and each second an unconscious part of me keeps on hoping that Draco might return.

I vaguely remember that time when we had an enormous disagreement over something that gave way to a full-blown argument. It started off like any old quarrel, the same snide remarks that have always flown between us. It got more and more ridiculous and soon we were arguing on whom to leave the house.

"Its my house. YOU leave."

"Oh yeah? You pompous prick, I paid my half of it."

"Well, I chose the location, so YOU leave.'

This led to me grabbing a roll of duct tape and screaming, "Fine! We divide the house, no one crosses this line."

"FINE!"

But as the yellow tape was about to be stuck onto the carpet, Draco roars at me to leave his Persian rug alone. I refuse and he decks me. Angrily I clutch my face and punch him in the guts. He backhands me with the ferocity of a wild cat. I claw at him, a reminder of the ferocity of our youth. Nothing that happens after that registered clearly in my mind, but I remember him crushing our faces together angrily, kissing me with the intensity that always makes me feel. He bites down, hard and I moan, catching his tongue in between my teeth as he licks the bruised spot. I groan again, my hand clutched desperately into his shirt as he grasps my jaw tightly. He kisses me again and again, straddling me confidently, and then we were making love and making up on the very couch we quarreled over.

His blond hair askew as he lies next to me on the rug begs me to run my fingers through it. And I did. Gracefully he catches my hands while they were doing a perusal of his beautiful body. He grips my left hand tightly in his right and places it over where his heart should be. I gaze quietly into his eyes, basking in the way he looks at me.

Gently he thumbs my hand. "I will never leave you Harry. Not now, not ever. I promise."

And he kisses me slowly, gently. He silently begs me for permission, kissing with a passion that gets right to me. I remember, that night, even under the pale half moon, my happiness was complete. It was almost as if I was made whole again - the scars of war chased forever away.

As I shake myself up from my reverie, I realize with no little amount of disgust that tears have indeed found their way into my eyes. I hate myself for being so vulnerable. I hate myself for being so needy. I hate it, when I have to depend on someone else to fill the aching gap that hurts every time I breathe.

"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." I mutter, even though I do not know whom those words I directed to.

When at last I collect myself, I make my way to the nearest store. At times like these, I did not want to step into a place where random people I have never heard of step up to me and wish me a Merry Christmas.

Exhaustion seeps into me like the winter chill as I step home. The snow falling around me looked grey, so old and tired. I bought a hell lot of liquor, and that is about all I could stand because every time I saw anything remotely green or silver, (which during Christmas you could imagine was almost everything), Draco jumps into my line of vision and I feel like smashing my head against a lamppost. Incidentally, they are also decorated with gold and red tinsel. How our youth haunts us.

I take out the beer for 'warm-up'. Already my mind is going off on weird tangents, wondering about fir trees that get chopped down this time of the year, travel hundreds of miles across the ocean, only to remain locked in a warehouse unsold, and then get burnt to cinders after Christmas. I think about when objects go when you _Evanesco _them. Is there a place full of banished objects? Things people once cared about, then tossed unsparingly into the void?

Drowning the last of the cheap beer, I crush the can. The aluminum cuts into my palm, and the red that seeps out of my hand looks exactly like the colour of wine. There is a sound, but having 'heard' sounds the whole day, I dismiss it, empowered by the alcohol in my blood.

Watching the slow trickle of blood slide down my hand, I feel slightly fascinated. The whiskey is next. As my lungs flare up, I feel hot and fiery. Young again and full of throbbing veins and unfilled ambition. And now, abandoning the spectacle of my hand I reach for more drink. My hand passes over the dry cider, the bourbon and finally stops on the bottle of red wine.

Perfect.

I struggle with the cork before forcing it out with my wand. I pour myself a glass, thinking I should start slowing down. This bottle had cost a hundred pounds, something even the bloody Malfoy would appreciate. Just as I bring the cup to my lips, a warm hand envelops mine. I start, as the hand guides the glass back to the table. My heart leaps into my throat, but I dare not turn around. The snow, I start thinking about the snow, and somehow I look out and see it falling in a pure, angelic white.

Two arms encircle me from behind and I am pulled into a tight embrace. A warm breath that makes me shiver ghosts across my neck. And the voice, the familiar voice whispers tenderly into my ear. "If I recall, the wine always tasted better when I am around."

_Draco_. _You came home for me._

"Merry Christmas, Harry."_  
_

_

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**A/N: **Well, how was it? Again, I thank all those who have supported me. I love you guys. As for the ending, couldn't help it, it was Christmas and I thought that was enough angst already.** Merry Christmas** to you, and all the best in your own writings.

~**Shadafakup**


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